So there were human beings in this Dimension, and even in this jungle. Not just one race, either, but two-and apparently not on particularly friendly terms, either. For the hundredth time Blade wished he could see and hear in all directions at once. Both bodies were swarming with insects, but neither of them smelled particularly bad. In this damp heat decay would set in almost at once. Either or both peoples could still be too close for comfort. Blade didn't look like either one, of course, but would they be able to see this before they speared him or hit him over the head?

At least he could get food and liquid from the yellow fruit, and worry about the rest later. He walked over to the vine and plucked a fruit, then peeled of the skin and bit out a chunk. The juice dribbled down his chin as he chewed. The flavor wasn't entirely pleasant-rather like overripe pineapple with a faint hint of sulphur-but he'd lived for days on things tasting far worse. A dozen or two of the fruit would hold him for several days.

Blade started picking, noticing that most of the fruit close to the ground was still on the vine. Higher up it was stripped almost bare. Either the fruit up there was better than lower down or else somebody liked climbing trees for the fun of it.

Blade collected fifteen of the fruits, then pieced together a rough sack out of fern leaves and lengths of vine. He made himself an even rougher hat out of more fern leaves, then looked around for a weapon of some sort. Not far off he found a fallen branch the size of a small tree. Much of it was rotted, but one chunk was still sound enough to make a good club.

Blade saw no sign of any trail, and his hunter's sixth sense told him that no one was watching or listening from cover. He picked up the club, slung the sack of fruit across his shoulder, and moved on. He was not afraid, for Blade was about as incapable of fear as a sane man could be, but he would have liked a loaded pistol in his belt as well as that machete and some bug repellant.